Walls closing in around her.
Ava was standing in front of the mirror, but the glass alone wasn't what she was looking into. It was her own reflection—and beneath it, 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗲𝗹𝘀𝗲.. The eyes of the girl in the glass weren't hers. They were wide, too wide, as if something inhuman had stretched them open. And the smile that contorted across her lips wasn't hers either.
She blinked, and it was gone.
But the memory. the picture stayed.
Her pulse pounded. The walls of the tiny room seemed to be breathing in rhythm with her, the pumping making the air heavy and heavy.
"Rohit, I…" she began, but her voice sounded empty. She swallowed hard. "I need to… I need to be left alone for a minute."
Rohit didn't argue. He knew better than to prod her. But turning to leave, he couldn't help but catch a glimpse in the mirror—and then again of her. 𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗼𝗳𝗳 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗺𝗶𝗿𝗿𝗼𝗿.
But he didn't voice it.
Ava turned away, disregarding the crawling feeling of being watched, until she reached the opposite corner of the room. She perched on the edge of a creaky, unstable chair, shaking hands clasped tightly together.
The 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨… the visions continued to push against her mind like a dam about to burst open.
Her childhood house.
Her mother's soothing voice.
The man behind the trees.
And the time she never really knew—𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚. The crackling of wood, the flash of red that consumed everything.
Her uncle's voice.
"𝗔𝘃𝗮… 𝗻𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼, 𝗶𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂."
𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩. Or had he? Or was it something deeply buried, something she didn't even realize she remembered?
A sudden shiver coursed through her veins.
The room started to shift.
The chair, once comfortable, was like a cage. The air thickened, heavy with memories that were not hers, things she could not account for.
And then the lights fluttered. Once. Twice.
And then, suddenly, the temperature fell. A cold wind seemed to spin around her.
And then the whisper.
Not from the mirror.
𝑩𝒆𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓.
She whirled, heart pounding against her ribcage. The room stretched out. Shadows slid like liquid, swirling, twisting.
But there was nothing.
Except the dark.
Her pulse was wild now. She attempted to rise, but the ground beneath her writhed. Her legs were weak, as if sinking into the very ground itself beneath her. Shadows closed in around her, calling her name.
𝗔𝘃𝗮.
She stumbled back, hands grasping for something—the door, the wall, something—but everything seemed unreal now.
The pictures—distorted faces, flashing lights, screams—filled her mind. The fire. The heat. The pain. The faces that should have been familiar but weren't.
There was one face that stood out above the rest.
A young man. His eyes were darkened, but she could sense him. 𝙒𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 her.
The shadows that surrounded her grew thicker, closing in on her like they wanted to strangle her.
A voice—so soft, like a lullaby—echoed in her head, but this time, it was clearer.
'You can't run from the past, Ava. You can only confront it."
The ground under her gave way, and she slammed to her knees. Cracking wood echoed in the crushing darkness.
Her vision blurred from tears, and as she leaned out to grasp something to support herself—
The whispering ceased.
Silence, as cold as death.
Ava gasped for breath in ragged shudders. She stared upward.
The walls were normal again. The room did not move or stretch anymore.
But she was no longer alone.
The man from the shadows—standing in the corner, looking—his features still obscured.
Ava tried to scream, but nothing emerged from her throat.
Then the figure moved closer, his eyes flashing with something evil.
"𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝘀𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿."
Ava stood there, her heart pounding, the shadows in the room thick and oppressive. The man in the background was not there anymore, but his presence remained—such as a cold wind touching her skin, under her clothes, and into her bones. She couldn't help but feel he was still there, observing her, waiting.
Her fingers shook as she dropped the picture back onto the floor. The corners of the photo were crumpled, as if it had been touched too many times. She found herself with a compelling urge to reach down and pick it up, to examine it, but she fought against it. She couldn't. Not with him still out here somewhere.
She needed to leave.
Ava stepped back toward the door, her movements stiff, as if the air itself was trying to pull her away. The familiar buzz of the overhead light flickered once more, sending wild shadows dancing on the walls. Every flicker made the shadows seem deeper, as if they were spreading, creeping closer.
The door handle was too cold to the touch, but she turned it anyway. The door creaked loudly as she pushed it open. As she entered the hallway, her mind was racing. She couldn't shake the eerie feeling running up her spine—something was amiss.
The house was too quiet. Too quiet.
But then, she heard something. Quiet. Barely audible.
Footsteps.
The noise was slow, measured, as if someone was walking just in front of her, deliberately staying out of sight. Ava's breath was stuck in her throat, her body paralyzed. She didn't want to see. She didn't want to know who it was.
But the footsteps persisted. One by one, each step a bit nearer. She automatically went for her phone, but as her fingers grazed it in her pocket, she knew it had ceased buzzing. No messages. No updates.
The silence was too absolute.
Think, Ava. Think.
Her head was a jumble of fear, adrenaline pumping through her system as she struggled to concentrate. If it was Rohit alone, he would have shouted out to her. But if it wasn't him… if it was someone else?
She spun around, hardly thinking, and darted into the closest room. A spare bedroom. The door closed behind her with a muted thud.
She pushed her back against the wall, her eyes searching for movement in the shadows. The stillness wrapped around her, but she could hear the soft shuffle of feet. The noise growing louder, more clear. The stepping sending each ripple of apprehension through her.
Her breath was shallow, her chest constricting. It couldn't be real.
Ava's mind was racing. She considered calling out Rohit, but the voice in her head cautioned her against doing so. What if it wasn't him? What if, in some strange way, it was the man from the shadows, the guy she'd seen in the hallway? What if he was standing right outside her door?
Then the knock came.
It was a soft, slow knock.
Not loud enough to shatter the silence but clear in its purpose. It was the sort of knock that sounded as if it contained a message. I know you're inside.
Ava's heart stopped. Her palms went sweaty, and she slid down to the floor automatically, back still against the wall. She could hear her pulse slamming in her ears, blood pumping like a drumbeat in the quiet room.
She waited, holding her breath.
The knock came once more. Harder this time. Louder.
Who was it?
She couldn't think straight. She didn't want to open the door. But something deep within her recognised that if she didn't, whatever was waiting outside would somehow find its way in.
She crept, as silently as possible, to the door with a fear that nearly froze her in place. She could feel her fingers shaking as she stretched out to grab the handle. Her skin was too hot. Her throat parched.
Ava hesitated.
Who was behind it?
Her thoughts went back to the man she had seen—the dark figure, the one with the cold, dead eyes. He had been in the shadows, observing her. The truth hit her like a ton of bricks. He's here.
The knock came again, but this time, it wasn't a knock.
The door shook.
Ava gasped and jumped back. She didn't wait any longer. She grasped at the lock with her hand, her fingers fumbling, but at last she managed to open it. In one swift movement, she flung the door open, only to see—nothing.
The hallway was empty.
Her breath left her in a whoosh, her legs trembling, but then she heard something. A whisper.
It was behind her.
"Ava…"
She spun her head around, but there was stillness. It was quiet, just as before. No footsteps. No noise.
She wasn't alone.
Her heart skipped a beat as she turned her eyes towards the corners of the room, looking for any movement. Nothing.
And then, there was another sharp knock. A loud bang.
It wasn't at the door this time. It was behind her.
Her heart pounded, and she spun around to see the origin of the sound. But it was futile. The room was as vacant as the corridor, its edges hiding in darkness.
The knocking wasn't haphazard.
It was a warning.
The room seemed to slant, and Ava's legs gave way under her. Her head reeled with a thousand questions—queries, fears, uncertainties—before they were overwhelmed by the silent scream in her mind.
And then, as suddenly, she heard him speak once more.
"𝗗𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝘁𝗿𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗽𝗲, 𝗔𝘃𝗮. 𝗜𝘁'𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘄𝗮𝘆."
............
𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀? 𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑫𝑳𝒀 𝑫𝑶 𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮. 𝑰𝑻 𝑯𝑬𝑳𝑷𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀 𝑻𝑶 𝑮𝑹𝑶𝑾...!
𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 𝙨𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨.